


The Birthday Gift

by moonfairy13, Quartz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, F/M, Facebook: Fremione Fanatics, FairySafe, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quartz/pseuds/Quartz
Summary: Nearly five months have passed since the war. Everyone's getting things sorted out. Hermione's back at Hogwarts during the week, Fred is slowly but surely recovering from the injuries caused by that damn wall, the shop's back up and running and everyone gathers at The Burrow for Hermione's birthday dinner. But Fred pulls Hermione away before it begins. Her birthday gift from him is at his and George's flat, he explains, and would she mind popping over to see it?This is pure fluff, almost a fan fic of a fan fic, in that it features the most romantic piece of furniture to feature in Fremioneland in recent times, which was created by our actual birthday girl. Hope y'all enjoy. Happy birthday, LSUsweetie! Hope you enjoy what we did with your chair 😊 💜Pic and furniture expertise provided by Quartz.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 39
Kudos: 132





	The Birthday Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LSUsweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSUsweetie/gifts).



> So, on Wednesday evening this week, LSUsweetie informed me in a casual conversation about cake that it was her birthday on Friday. 
> 
> FRIDAY!
> 
> Friday next week, I asked?
> 
> No, this Friday.
> 
> I mean, not that she would have any idea that my immediate thought would be that I would love to write her a gift fic as thanks for all the Fremione fluff she posts, not to mention all the lovely support she gives me, which includes reading and cooing encouragingly over **my** Fremione fluff and smut, but really?!
> 
> And on a week when I'm REALLY busy too!
> 
> AND Louisiana is 6 hours behind Burrow Time, so that's even LESS time!
> 
> Well, luckily, I secretly shared my dismay (read: moaned about the lack of forewarning 😆) with Quartz. Who happens to be a bit fab. (Seriously, if she wasn't already married, I'd be offering her her pick of my boys. And not just because she helps me understand all the tech stuff that I'm too old for!) 
> 
> Oh, Quartz says. I'm off work today. Why don't we write it together?
> 
> 😮 😊 🥰
> 
> So.
> 
> A quick training session in google docs for me, a couple of hours of fast writing, with Quartz starting at one end of the story and me the other, a fun break here and there while we watched each others' cursors in between writing fluff, (I imagine that, if we were hooked up to a brain scanner, it would be the same sort of reading as when you use a laser pointer on the floor for a cat) and here we go with a fluffy, birthday Fremione fic for LSUsweetie.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy it 😊 💜
> 
> (And I'm going to have a lie down now. FAR too much excitement for one week!)

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190397502@N04/50884434013/in/dateposted-public/)  
  


Hermione stepped out of the floo into the Burrow, shoulders tense and quickly scanned the room. She sighed and her shoulders slumped a bit when no gingers popped out with loud greetings. She timed her arrival right, and she could brace herself before Mrs. Weasley accosted her with affection. As much as she was looking forward to her birthday dinner, unexpected loud noises were not her favorite, and she needed a moment to prepare. The floo flared behind her in warning, and she quickly stepped away to allow Ginny though. 

“Mum didn’t smother you right away?” Ginny asked as she dusted off. 

“Luckily no, she didn’t hear me come through.”

“Excellent, are you ready then?” Hermione nodded, and the girls linked arms and set off to find the rest of the family. They found them setting up in the garden, taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day. 

“The birthday girl is here!” Ginny called out to cheers and excitement. Harry and Ron dropped what they were doing and ran over for hugs as everyone else followed at a slightly more sedate pace. Even with being able to come home from Hogwarts on the weekends, she still missed her two very best friends dearly. The boys had opted not to come back to Hogwarts for an eighth year and were busy with auror training. In some ways though, it was serving Hermione’s needs quite well. She was able to have an uneventful and academic focused school year, and plenty of the solitude that she was desperately craving. And when she was in need of her friends and adopted family, she had the freedom to see them every weekend if she wished. 

“Happy Birthday Hermione!!” Both Ron and Harry gathered her up in a fierce three-way hug that was shortly broken up by the rest of the family catching up to them, and she was passed around for more hugs and birthday wishes. Mrs. Weasley fussed over her in her customary manner, and then she was passed off to Fred, his limp slowing him up the most out of the assembled Weasleys. He gathered her up in a soft hug that filled her with warmth and comfort. 

“Happy Birthday love,” he murmured quietly in her ear. “Think I could sneak you away for a moment before dinner? I want to give you your gift, but I couldn’t bring it here, it’s at our flat.” 

Hermione pulled away to look him in the eye, checking for mischief, but finding him earnest. 

“Sure Fred, give me a moment to finish saying hello.” He squeezed her briefly in response before releasing her to her adoring public. 

“Mrs. Weasley, is there anything I can help with?” Hermione asked. 

“Absolutely not! It’s your birthday and you should relax! Go on and enjoy yourself, we’ll have dinner ready in a bit. Fred, you sit too, you’ve done enough for today.”

Seeing his opening, Fred tugged on her hand, and with an eyebrow wiggle, he led her back through the house to the floo. George noticed them slink off, and knew that was his cue to keep watch, and hope for the best for his twin. 

When they arrived at the flat, Fred immediately helped Hermione from the floo and led her to a corner of the living room. Hermione had always been surprised at how cosy and clean the twins’ flat was. Clearly, they had learned more household spells than she had realised, and she loved the fact that they took the time to keep their space looking nice. She also loved that they had a large sofa each, and that their living room resembled the Gryffindor common room. But there was a large object next to one of the sofas that she hadn’t seen before. It was covered with a large red sheet and, as Fred pulled her towards it, she realised with some surprise that it might be the gift to which he had referred.

“It’s not wrapped in paper,” Fred explained, moving his weight from one foot to the other. Hermione wasn’t sure if his leg was aching or if he was shifting apologetically, which didn’t seem like usual Weasley twin behaviour (though George did used to squirm when Professor McGonagall gave him a particular look. Hermione had always enjoyed seeing Fred’s response to her ‘prefect voice’, but it was quite different from George’s reaction to their teacher.)

“It’s your birthday present, from me,” he confirmed. “A bit from George, but not really. Here,” he added, indicating that she should pull at the sheet which was covering her present. It looked like one of the charmed dust sheets that the twins had used to make the shop look abandoned during the latter part of the war. But it did at least look as if a scourgify had been applied to it.

Hermione gave Fred an enquiring glance, which made him grin.

“It’s not going to bite you,” he assured her, and he nodded towards her hand. Then he wrapped his own hand around hers, making Hermione’s heart flip flop a bit, and they tugged together until the dust sheet flew off and landed on the floor beside them.

It was a chair. A soft, red chair. But not just any soft, red chair. It looked fabulously comfortable; wide enough for her – and probably someone else as well – to curl up comfortably on without being squashed. As a grinning Fred reached around her and pushed a small button, Hermione saw that the best part was that it had an attached leg rest, so it was basically a sofa with a chair back.

“It’s for reading in,” Fred said, as he indicated another small gift that was nestled among the cushions.

“It’s lovely,” Hermione said, quite overcome by his thoughtfulness. “And it’s for me?”

“All for you,” Fred replied.

Hermione reached for the wrapped present and slowly opened it. Inside, she found a large mug with a picture of Crookshanks’ squashed face printed on it. Laughing, she pulled out the assorted packets and pieces of paper that Fred had put in the mug. There were sachets of hot chocolate, a couple of bars of her favourite chocolate from Honeydukes and, best of all, a couple of book vouchers for Flourish and Blotts.

“Oh Fred,” she breathed, almost speechless at the consideration he had put into finding her the perfect combination of birthday gifts.

“I hope you like it,” he said. “I wanted you to have somewhere safe and warm to snuggle up.” 

Fred tried not to look at Hermione’s arm, but he couldn’t help himself, and she nodded, full of an emotion that she didn’t know what to call at his ongoing desire to help her recover. It was Fred who had found her downstairs at midnight at The Burrow a couple of times in the summer, and who had chatted with her into the night while she tried to forget the nightmares. It was Fred who had made George carry her up to their old room after she had fallen asleep on the sofa – for his leg wasn’t yet recovered enough to do that job himself and, after all, what was a twin for if not to lend his body while your own healed – and tucked her into his own bed for an afternoon nap. And it was Fred who had stood in a quiet corner with her on more than one occasion when the obligatory post-war Ministry functions had been too much. As these recollections flitted through Hermione’s mind, she found herself wondering more about the feeling that she increasingly felt when he was near.

“I … um,” he began, and then stopped. His eyes flitted to the ceiling and back down again. “I mean…” Fred took a deep breath, and then nodded, as if to himself. “You can keep it here, if you like,” he said, all in a rush. “Or take it somewhere else, of course; we can shrink it easily enough. You could keep it in the common room, or in your dorm, or at The Burrow, though I don’t know that you’ll get much peace there, to be honest, but, like I said, you can keep it here if you like...”

“Keep it here,” Hermione repeated, looking around the living room of Fred and George’s flat, as a sensation began to grow in her tummy and thoughts suddenly began to tumble over each other in her mind. She swallowed, wondering if she was reading things right. Hoping that she was. She wasn’t oblivious to Fred’s charms. Far from it. She had been delighted at being able to spend so much time with him over the summer, and a bit sad to go back to school, where she would have less reason to see him. If her chair was here and she was welcome to visit whenever she liked, well…

Needing a bit of time to process her thoughts, and wanting to find out if her suspicions were correct, Hermione walked to her chair and sat down in it. It was just as comfortable as it looked, if not more so. Leaning forward, she put the mug and her other gifts on the coffee table and then patted the seat beside her.

“Join me?” she asked. “There’s plenty of room for two … and,” she added, a bit shyly, “your leg must be aching by now.”

It wasn’t. It felt fine. Good, even. But Fred wasn’t about to tell Hermione that.

“Yeah, it does a bit,” he lied, and went over to join her in the chair. Hermione decided that her gift was even cosier with Fred beside her, and the proximity of his body made Hermione’s heart skip a beat and confirm her thoughts. Fred had always been a very attractive wizard and, like most of the witches in Gryffindor Tower, she might have had a bit of a crush on him in her younger years, but what she had been feeling over the past few months was different. It was about the care he showed her. His creativity with the shop. His resilience and cheerfulness in the face of what had initially been a painful injury.

“Fred,” she said, reaching for his hand and summoning her inner lion. Then she smiled a little, to herself. “I’d love to keep it here, and visit on weekends and evenings and stuff, but what about when you have girlfriends over? Won’t they think it’s weird that I have a special armchair in your flat?” She couldn’t resist the teasing; hoping and trusting that he would see the fun in that. Hoping even more that it would lead to him giving her the answer she so badly needed. 

A range of emotions crossed Fred’s face in quick succession, much to Hermione’s delight, for they practically confirmed her suspicions about his feelings for her. Initially, surprise at her question. Then annoyance at himself for not having thought of this possibility. A calculating, scheming look briefly crossed his face; the kind that took over when he and George were working out the kinks in a new product, and then finally, when he saw her smiling face, a look that combined understanding and joy into a teasing smirk.

“Hmmm, that could be a problem,” he said, looking as if he were weighing it up. This wasn’t how he had thought the conversation would go. Fred had been hoping that he would find the words to share his feelings but in a way that would also let Hermione know he was genuinely wanting to offer her a safe, comfortable space of her own for when she needed it. No obligations. George had snorted. Angelina had patted him, in the manner of a kindly but doubting older sister. If only they could see him now, the doubters. This was, Fred decided, going even better than he had hoped. 

He only realised that he had trailed off when Hermione prompted him with a little hum.

“Yes,” he said, trying to focus on his thoughts and not on the way he felt with Hermione so close. “And I _am_ a very eligible wizard.” His eyes flashed, to let her know he was joking. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. About whether I was on or off the market, you know.”

“Quite,” Hermione replied. She was going to enjoy sharing this conversation with Angelina later. The two had become closer of late, and Hermione now realised why Angelina might have been asking her about how she felt about Fred last week.

“Well,” Fred said. “I suppose there is one obvious option.”

“Oh yes?” Hermione looked enquiringly at Fred as she smiled to herself. It wouldn’t do to let him off too easily. If things continued to go in the direction she thought they were going in, there was a standard to be set here. 

“You could become my girlfriend,” he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant; trying to say it as if the thought had never before crossed his mind, while all the time looking like a small boy who was desperate for approval.

“Well,” Hermione replied, trying to keep her face straight. “I suppose it would stop any misunderstandings?”

“Quite,” Fred smiled, echoing her earlier tone and looking more confident as he took Hermione’s face into his right hand. “We don’t want misunderstandings…”

“No,” she murmured, smiling softly at the wizard she was now practically snuggling with as she moved her face closer to Fred’s.

“Just so there aren’t any misunderstandings about this,” he said, “can I kiss you, please?”

Hermione leaned in and kissed his lips softly. “Yes,” she said.

Fred didn’t need a further invitation. Adjusting their position slightly in the chair, he tightened his arms around Hermione’s body and gazed into her eyes, enjoying the anticipation for a breath or two before their mouths met. He let out a small groan at the sensation and the taste of Hermione’s lips, which he had been dreaming about for weeks, and Hermione replied with a tiny huff of happiness and laughter. Fred smiled against her mouth and then settled in for a long snogging session, which was interrupted only when George arrived through the floo fifteen minutes later, his hand covering his eyes.

“Are you ready for your birthday dinner?” he asked Hermione before turning in the direction of his brother, which made Hermione realise that he was totally peeping through his fingers at them. “Did she like it? More importantly, is it going to stay here?”

Hermione adjusted her position, raising herself higher on Fred’s lap while trying not to put too much weight on his left leg as she looked at George over the back of the armchair.

“I suppose we’re ready,” she said, though the look she gave Fred confirmed to him that he had every chance of persuading her to come back here to snuggle and kiss him in peace after spending what would be several more hours in the boisterous company of the Weasleys. George grinned widely when he saw her flushed face. “And yes, I love it,” Hermione added, “and yes, it’s going to stay here.” She gave George a grin before uttering the sentence that made his eyebrows disappear into his hair and earned her a glass of wine from Angelina the next time they were all in The Three Broomsticks. “After all, I don’t suppose Professor McGonagall will be very happy about the idea of Fred arriving in the common room to snog me in it every evening … she’ll never be able to confiscate products as quickly as he can sell them then.”

A few hours later, Hermione was back in her soft, red armchair. They had eaten a lovely meal, followed by a thoroughly enjoyable evening around the campfire. She had snuggled up with Fred on a blanket and smiled through the teasing comments hurled at them from every direction by assorted Weasleys. Harry and Ron had given Fred the obligatory “big brother” lecture, to which Hermione had responded with an appropriately cross “smash the patriarchy; I can look after myself, thank you” speech. But Bill and Arthur had arrived back at the campfire with more wine and raised a toast just as she finished, which had the desired effect of calming everyone down and making them smile. And, once the night got too cool to be outside even with the fire and warming spells, Hermione had taken Fred’s hand as she accepted his invitation to come back to the flat for the evening and spend some more time with him in her new chair. Molly handed them enough leftover birthday cake to feed the entire school; delighted to see her middle son looking so content as he chatted with his witch. Fred's family had all smiled to hear him promising to accompany Hermione to Flourish and Blotts the very next weekend, to spend her vouchers, and they had made plans to owl and chat during the week as well. 

Hermione smiled up at Fred as they snuggled together in her armchair. “Thank you for my lovely birthday present,” she said, stroking his leg. “I’m going to treasure it forever.”

Only later, when he awoke to the sound of a drunken Oliver Wood and his latest boyfriend roaring through Diagon Alley at three in the morning, did it occur to Fred that he wasn’t sure whether she had meant the chair, or him? But as he cuddled Hermione closer, surprised and a bit delighted that she had agreed to sleep with him in his bed that night so that they could spend the whole of Sunday together before she returned to school, he decided that he didn’t mind either way.

“Happy birthday, Hermione,” he whispered into her curls. “I hope it was a good one.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to read the original story where the armchair featured, here it is: [I can love you like that](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168386/).


End file.
